


Wolf Like Me

by TheQueensBlade



Category: The Witcher 3, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Geralt Smut, Hot Witcher on Witcher Action, NSFW, Non-Canon Relationship, Not safe for life?, Novigrad is for Lovers, Pseudo-Incest, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tired of Triss vs Yenn?, Try Geralt X Ciri, Yenn and Triss make an appearance in Chapter 3 but it's not what you think!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueensBlade/pseuds/TheQueensBlade
Summary: Many years ago, Geralt got tired of being the rope in the tug of war between Triss and Yenn, and he walked away from both of them, returning to a solitary existence on the road. Geralt's lonely soul is stunned when a chance meeting in Novigrad with his foster-daughter Ciri ignites within him a passion within him he dared never acknowledge or indulge.And he was not the only one who wanted to explore and enjoy this forbidden, raw lust.





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> THIS SITE NEEDS MORE GERALT SMUT.
> 
> This fic assumes Geralt did no romancing whatsoever during The Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt. Chapter one is set up and then it's gonna get steamy & swampy in here. Four chapters planned.

Geralt looked beyond the orchards and fields to the city that lay at the horizon. Novigrad. He hadn't intended on coming back here for a long time - too many memories, and very few of them pleasant. Geralt was familiar with how venal peasants in the countryside could be, but the citizens of Novigrad had created their own brand of unscrupulousness. Thieves, pimps and phony beggars, conniving merchants, easily bribed ealdormen - he had met them all between these high city walls, and had dispatched more than a few of them to the afterlife with the pointy end of his Ofieri saber. Geralt certainly hadn't forgotten that the last time he had been here, he had crossed paths with his former lovers, Triss and Yennefer - and broke it off with both of them. Their insistent pleas to pick one of them once and for all sent him sent him back on the Path faster than the promise of coin, or silence. He loved them both, but it was impossible to have them both.

He sunk into his thoughts, letting Roach lead them toward the nearest city gate. Geralt had sticky drowner guts on his boots, rottfiend blood splattered on his trousers. The decomposing royal wyvern head he had tethered to his saddle was attracting more flies than usual. He sighed as a terrified child scrambled out of Roach's way. Maybe it was a good thing he was heading into the city. He needed a reprise from his life on the road, something more deluxe than the usual bedbug-infested inns he tolerated - a hot bath, some cold vodka, soft sheets, and a comforting body. He chuckled to himself as a saucy elfen street walker leaning against a stone wall gave him a wink as he passed through the Portside gate. _Even monster-slaying mutants need a little love._

Roach steered them into Hierach Square and then paused, waiting for a cue from his master. Should he blow his hard-earned coin at the Passiflora? Or slum it a bit at Crippled Kate's? The girls were friendlier there, less prone to be startled by his eyes, or his scars. _But at the Passiflora, he_ -

A voice called out, interrupting his internal debate. "Geralt! You bastard! Why did ye not tell us you were in town?!" Geralt looked around for Zoltan, but couldn't find him in the crowd - not much had changed in Novigrad in the way that two unfortunate mages had just been burned at the stake in the square nearby. He heard some general swearing and then saw some bystanders step away so the cheerful, bearded dwarf could make his to him.  
  
Geralt slipped off of Roach and slapped his hand into Zoltan's with emphatic affection.

"Zoltan, it's been too long. You look well!"  
  
"Aye, turns out running a tavern is a jolly enterprise indeed. Yer surrounded by good food, only the best ale, and the women. Geralt - you know I've never cared much for Dandelion's songs - "  
  
"Or his written prose, jokes, religious psalms, memoirs, or cookbooks - "  
  
Zoltan tilted his head in curiosity as they meandered down a cobblestone street. "I didna know he wrote cookbooks?"  
  
"Never ask him about them then, but what were you going to say before I interrupted?"  
  
Zoltan regained his conspiratorial tone. "You know I don't care much for Dandelion's particular ouvre, but the women who flock to his side - the women, Geralt. Soft of heart, soft of curves - when he rejects them, you wouldn't believe how many of them are willing to give old Chivay a chance."  
  
Geralt smirked. "How many?"  
"More than I expected, how about that?"  
  
The two laughed together, now finding themselves outside of the Chameleon. Geralt paused for a moment, a bit of anxiety passing over his face. "Geralt - were you going to sneak in and out of Novigrad and not come say hello to me and Dandelion?"  
  
"It's not that. Just - the last time I was here..." Geralt just shook his head. Zoltan put the rest of it together.  
  
"I can't be truly certain, but I didn't see any sorceresses hanging around the Chameleon today, and certainly not the two in question who spent decades trying to tear you in half right down the middle. You must come in and stay with us - have some wine, the roasted pheasant, and stay as long as you like in the Ruby Room, you know it's our nicest one."

Zoltan pushed open the front door of the Chameleon and Geralt was taken aback by how swanky his old friends' pub had become. A quartet was playing cheerful drinking songs and there was  velvet brocade everywhere, rich platters of food on the tables - he heard the pop of a wine cork and almost immediately began salivating. "Come, Geralt, sit, you're starving for some comfort, I can tell by the look on your face."  
  
Zoltan lead him deeper into the tavern but before he could relax into the corner booth, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug, two silk-clad arms thrown about him.  
  
"Praise Melitele, Freya, the Allgod, the Great Sun and the even the Eternal Fire for bringing friends back together! Raise a glass to my oldest friend, Geralt of Rivia, everyone! Go on, do it, do it!"  
  
Dandelion egged on some nearby revelers who lifted their wine goblets for Geralt without taking their eyes off the comely tavern wenches circulating throughout the room. Geralt took a moment to study his old compatriot. Dandelion wore his age well, the grey streaks in his hair and the lines near his eyes and his mouth had sculpted him from a boyish bard to a man of age and experience. The Witcher clapped him on his back before they all sat down together.  
  
"So, Geralt, what brings you back to Novigrad? Haven't seen much of you in almost a decade! I can't wait to tell Priscilla you're in town." Zoltan tried to flag down a waitress while they chatted, but the Chameleon was buzzing tonight and it was proving hard to get one of the girls' attention.

"Just passing through. How is your lady love, Dandelion? You haven't alienated her yet with your wandering eye?"  
  
"My eyes never wander anymore, Geralt, I have truly settled down. Her talent, her kindness, her beauty - these things captivate me every day. Why would I need any other woman when the one I have supplies me with more inspiration than I could ever need?" Geralt saw the sincerity and affection in the bard's eyes and felt a rare prick of jealousy that he ignored as soon as a fine Redanian red was poured into his cup. The trio hoisted their goblets high, and then Zoltan and Dandelion surprised him by looking to him for the toast. He cleared his throat and thought for a second before speaking.  
  
"To the oldest of friends - and the strongest of bonds that can never be broken."  
  
Later he would look back on this moment and realize his words had been a powerful spell. It caused his friends to freeze mid-toast, seemingly stunned into silence by his uncharacteristic eloquence. Those words summoned someone he thought he wouldn't see again, at least not for a very long time.  
  
_He sensed her before he saw her._  
  
Every hair on his arms stood up, every Witcher sense in his body crackled and sizzled as they always did in the presence of a creature of great otherworldly power. The front door of the Chameleon swung open and a lithe, graceful figure stepped into the pub. Geralt stood up, shock blazing through his body.  
  
"Ciri?"  
  
Despite the raucous band playing on the stage nearby, she heard him. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon threw back the hood on her cloak, revealing her silvery locks and emerald eyes. Geralt inhaled. _She's so beautiful. She only gets more beautiful every time I see her. How is that even possible._  
  
She took two tentative steps toward him, and then dashed into his open arms. Geralt felt curious eyes watching their reunion but he didn't care. Her forehead was pressed against his chin, a bit of her hair brushing against his cheek. He inhaled her familiar scent, exotic amber and sweet tuberose- and recognized some of the same things he knew he smelled like, a smoky campfire, dried blood, the dust of the road and hard-earned sweat. He squeezed her tighter and said nothing, overcome by the surprise of seeing her and holding her again.  
  
"Geralt, are you going to give anyone else a chance to greet the girl?" He pulled back from their embrace and was pleased when Ciri held on to him for a moment longer. She beamed up at him, tears glinting in her sparkling eyes as he cupped her chin with one of his hands. "That's a new one."

She sniffled a little, affected by their reunion. "What's that?"  
"This scar here."

He traced the new line that started near her hairline to run down her left temple. She shrugged, confident and proud, and Geralt was reminded of the little girl she once was. "Only a little slip up during an encounter with a tenacious ekimarra. Are you going to lecture me about my sloppiness, Geralt?"

"No, no lectures. Sit down and have a drink." He lead her over to Zoltan and Dandelion, who greeted her with warmth and affection. The four squeezed into the corner booth, Geralt's broad shoulders and long legs taking up most of the room. He watched as Zoltan and Dandelion fussed over her, pouring her wine goblet almost to the brim, piling fruits, cheese and bread in front of her. All the while Geralt found he could not stop staring at her. Something was _different_ about Ciri now. She seemed more like a woman than she had ever been to him. Like many fathers, he could look at his ward and see her at all the different periods of her life simultaneously: the unruly child who tore through the keep in Kaer Morhen, the girl blossoming into womanhood, sitting at her bourdoir as Triss taught her how to enhance her natural beauty, the woman warrior who struck down hounds of the Wild Hunt with three swipes of her broadsword. The woman sitting next to him at the table felt _new_ to him. She now had an aura of experience and worldliness about her. Geralt fixated on her her small gestures as she caught up with Dandelion and Zoltan. She was of royal,  _ancient_  blood. It shouldn't surprise him that her elegant fingers could pluck the perfect strawberry from atop pile of fruit, or that a flick of her wrist could carve a paper-thin sliver of cheese from the block.

Their conversation came to a halt for a moment when Dandelion was pulled away to tend to the business of managing a busy pub, and Zoltan had to cross the room to greet some friends of his who had just arrived. Ciri picked up the flagon and refilled Geralt's goblet. 

"Drink! Eat! Stop staring at me!"  
"Forgive this old Witcher, he hasn't laid eyes on you in, what? Ten, fifteen years? How's the Path treating you?"

She cued him to lift his goblet as she took a sip from her own. "Mmm, well, I find myself feeling and thinking like you, more and more each day."

Geralt drank deeply, to please her, and then let her refill his cup again. "How's that?"

"You know, the usual complaints. Effort doesn't always equal reward. You see the worst of people more than you see them at their best. They send you out into the woods, blaming a Leshen for someone's death, only to find out the girl was raped and murdered by her own father. And then sometimes you slay that nearby Leshen just to forget how angry and helpless you feel. It's enough to make you want to get drunk for days and get ploughed, good and hard."

Geralt sputtered into his cup, spilling wine onto his lap and Ciri laughed as she dabbed at the mess with a napkin. Geralt brushed her hand away as it danced too close to his groin. "Ah, don't worry about it. Here's a professional tip: wear a lot of black, so the blood - or wine - doesn't show." Geralt smirked at her, finding her sweet smiles incredibly infectious - but his smile slipped when he felt her hand lingering on his thigh. He put his hand over hers and moved it down to a more neutral part of his leg and then gave it a fatherly squeeze. A flash of frustrated pout appeared on her face but disappeared as soon as Dandelion and Zoltan returned to the table. Once again, Ciri and Geralt were pushed close to each other and Geralt had to concentrate on everything around him to ignore the warmth of her leg pressed against his. Instead, Geralt turned his attention to a buxom serving girl on the other side of the room. She had a nipped-in waist, full hips he wanted to grab onto, and rosy, sensual lips. She flicked her chestnut brown hair over a smooth shoulder and looked right at him. Right then and there he knew what she would look like pinned underneath him, how he'd bring a flush to her cheeks, how her moans would punctuate the steady rhythm of the headboard knocking against the wall. 

"Geralt!"  
  
He snapped to attention when Ciri elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Geralt, Dandelion asked you a question, but you were too busy gawking at that strumpet."  
  
"I wasn't gawking, I was merely wondering what...meat she was serving over there."  
  
This made the men snort and Ciri roll her eyes. Geralt grunted toward the bard. "What'd you want to know, Dandelion?"  
  
"I've already forgotten - I seem to be well on my way to being completely drunk. How'd that even happen?"

Ciri refilled everyone's goblets as Geralt smirked. "Our Witcheress probably has something to do with this. She seems to be  _trying_ to get us all drunk."

She caught a wine drop running down the side of her cup with the tip of a finger and then tasted it. "I'm just glad we're all together again. Wasn't expecting to be so close to Novigrad since I try to stay out of your territory, Geralt. Turns out there are plenty of other monsters in other realms anyhow."

At this, Dandelion and Zoltan perked up and demanded to hear more. They feasted and drank flagon after flagon of wine as Ciri regaled them with stories of giant sandworms that could swallow three men whole. She had met dragons that could speak and were sassy at that. Ciri had them all fixated as she told them of a terrifying world where armies of walking corpses hunted relentlessly for human flesh. The tales kept pouring out of her, and she kept giving Geralt these sideglances that seemed to tell him, "Which stories are true, do you think?" Geralt relaxed for the first time in a long, long time. It felt so good to be in her company - witchers were often solitary souls, once their trials and training were far behind them they did not often seek out each out. But Ciri would always be special.

She also just drank his two friends under the table.

Zoltan was snoring - quite literally, under the table, whereas Dandelion had fallen asleep on his folded arms, after pushing his platter of food away. Geralt looked around and realized the only people left in the Chameleon now were the hard drinkers and compulsive gwent gamblers. Ciri quirked a wicked grin at him when his gaze returned to her. "Shall we switch to vodka?"

Geralt peeked at Zoltan under the table to make sure he was breathing before answering her. "You are determined to end up under there with Zoltan, aren't you? What's going on Ciri, is everything fine? You're not in any trouble or anything - has someone hurt you?"

Ciri waved off his concern and also waved down a tavern wench. "Nothing of the sort, I'm just glad to see you. I hadn't intended to come to Novigrad, but..."

"But?"

She fixed her stunning green eyes on his. "Something inside of me told you were here. I knew it. I felt it. So with a little snap of my fingers, I decided to see if my intuitions were correct. They were. And I'm glad that they were." 

She doled out two shots of cold, strong vodka and passed him one. "Let's do some toasts, shall we? To Dandelion and Zoltan."  
  
Geralt clinked his tiny glass against hers as Ciri continued with her litany of old friends. They drank three shots in a row, one for Uncle Vesemir and Eskel and Lambert. Then they kept going, raising their glasses to Ermion, Roche and Ves, Keira Metz, Hjalmar and Queen Cerys, and even their enemies, the ones massacred, dead and fallen. They fell into a fit of laughter when Ciri wanted to drink to Eredin's dusty, dead cock. When Ciri wanted to toast to Yenn and Triss though, Geralt drank down the vodka but did not celebrate.

"What happened with Triss and Yenn, Geralt?"  
  
"Rather not talk about it." Geralt took the bottle out of her hands and drank right out of it.  
  
"I think you should. The only people you probably talk to nowadays are village ealdormen and water hags."

Geralt wanted to tell Ciri the only women that touched him now were women he had to pay, and that he was lonely - and horny - but it didn't feel appropriate. Her leg was touching his under the table again. This time the warmth he felt there spurred him on to talk instead of move away from her.

"I got tired of hurting them, and tired of them being jealous of each other. Hell, I wanted to be with both of them, I thought maybe we could make it work, come to some compromises so everyone got what they wanted but..." He shook his head. "They wanted too much in the end and maybe I had too little to give."

Ciri's eyes were fluttering closed but she blinked them back open again. "Oh Geralt, I'm so sorry. I haven't spoken to either of them in so long, I should probably..."

"The winery and distillery you've consumed have finally caught up with you. Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Geralt didn't have to guide her too much. She twined an arm around his neck and leaned into him, allowing him to scoop her into his arms. She was all muscle but so was he, and he carried her with ease up the Chameleon's stairs to the rooms above the pub. Ciri held him tight, nuzzling into him with a soft moan he felt against his neck. One of the hands around his neck crept up further up and he felt her fingers threading through his hair. He clenched his jaw and steadied his nerves. He had to get her into her own bed, so he could slip out into the night and toward Crippled Kate's. He was clearly dying to plough someone's brains out, his old insatiable witcher lust was pulsing through his system. How else to explain the hot and hungry thoughts that were nipping away at him on the inside, all because Ciri had been _touching him_ every chance she got throughout the night. 

Geralt walked Ciri down the hall on the third floor toward the corner suite. Once inside, he laid her on the red velvet coverlet of the wide goose-down mattress. Geralt snapped his fingers, bringing a fire to life in the nearby fireplace, and then started working on unlacing her complicated boots. He slipped one of them off, not without marveling at how smooth the skin of her leg was under his calloused fingertips. 

"Geralt?"  
"Hmm."  
"Don't leave, please."  
"I was going to put you to bed and then check on Zoltan and Dandelion, find another room to sleep in."  
"Don't. Please stay with me tonight. I'm just so glad to see you."

Geralt sighed, and began kicking off his own boots. He'd wait till she was asleep, and then continue with his plans for the rest of the night. She watched him with half-opened eyes as he settled onto the bed next to her. Before he could object, Ciri had closed the gap between them, tucking herself next to him and pulling one of his arms over her. With a content wiggle of her hips against his groin, she settled in and fell asleep. He couldn't extricate himself now, he was the big spoon and he was here to stay, as the alcohol caught up him with him too. He rarely slept like a normal human anymore, but Ciri seemed to want him to, so he let go and allowed himself to rest. 

  
* * * * *

Someone struck a match and Geralt woke with a gasp. His instincts fired up. Something was wrong. He couldn't move. 

And he was naked.

Geralt tried to sit up but he was tied down. His wrists were bound together and fastened to the bed behind his head - and a thick leather strap about his neck informed him he was even collared into place. He couldn't move his legs as well. Someone very handy with knots and ropes had lashed his legs to the bed posts. _Fuck. Who have I royally pissed off now?_

The Ruby Room glowed with candlelight. The smell of heady incense filled the air - and he heard the pop of a wine cork nearby. 

"Hello? Who's there?"

He heard the steps of someone walking on the hardwood floor in bare feet. The steps grew closer and Ciri appeared at the foot of the bed, clad only in a loose linen shirt and sipping some more wine out of her goblet. Her ashen hair was loose about her shoulders and she had an unreadable, almost blank look on her face.

"Ciri, what's going on, wh-what...?"  
  
"Thought I'd have myself a bit of a drink before we - "

Geralt felt defenseless and that was a rare feeling for him. He was beginning to panic about this situation. "We what?"

She drained her wine goblet and flung it over her shoulder where it clattered in a corner. Ciri reached down and grasped the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head. She was now as naked as he was.

"Ciri, have you gone mad?"

He could see the reflection of the fire in her eyes. "No, Geralt."

Geralt swallowed. Ciri didn't have as many scars as he did, but she did sport a few impressive ones. He focused on this, until his eyes travelled to her pale breasts. Lust was beginning to cloud his thoughts as he watched her rosy nipples hardening under his gaze. Ploughin' hell, man. He was salivating just thinking about drawing one of those sweet, taut buds into his mouth while he palmed the other one.  He felt his cock twinge against his will. He bit back a moan as she ghosted her fingertips across the flesh he now wanted to grasp, bite, lick and suck.

"Ciri, we can't do this, it's wrong!"  
"Is it? I don't think so. In fact, it's all I could think of, once I realized I was just one or portal jumps away from being near you again."

She put a knee on the bed, advancing toward him. Geralt tried to think of something, anything, that might stop her from continuing this madness.

"Ciri, d-don't you like girls? I thought that has always been your preference."

She snorted a little, pulling herself up onto the bed, crawling on hands and knees up the mattress. "My preference - is whatever and whomever, makes me feel good. I like girls, I like boys. I sometimes like them at the same time."

Geralt felt his blood catch on fire as she continued, sweeping her hands up his thighs now. "I went to an orgy in Kovir once. You gave pleasure at the same time as you took it, and as many times as you felt like it. Does that scandalize you, Geralt?"

He couldn't answer. His cock was rising up between them, just from listening to her talk this way. Plough it all to hell, he wanted to ask her questions, he wanted to make her tell him details. _He wished he had been there at that orgy_. But he stopped himself. He still had some control over this situation. _Ciri was just drunk, right?_

But Ciri, seemingly reading his thoughts, was shaking her head at him before he could even ask her. "No Geralt. I'm not drunk. I'm about as drunk as you are. We have the same stamina, the same endurance..."

Geralt had to lick his lips before speaking again, his mouth had run dry in the last few minutes as her hands had been massaging his thighs. "No, you're better than me, you've always been better, stronger, smarter than me."

She curled a sexy lip at him. "I need to tell you something, Geralt."  
"What is it?"

Ciri grasped his cock. "You can't talk your way out of this."

It made Geralt twitch hard - he was both disturbed and incredibly aroused at the same time, and the two opposing emotions were hacking away at each other inside of him like two sworn enemies. 

"I told you I needed a good, hard plough earlier, didn't I?"

Ciri pumped his cock a little. He was incredibly hard. It was much too late for him to pretend he didn't want this anymore, but Geralt's sense of propriety still wasn't giving up. 

"We shouldn't, Ciri..."  
  
"Oh, we should. You want to. I want to. And I'm going to take what I want."

There was no stopping her. Ciri licked her bottom lip and then dropped her mouth onto Geralt's cock. He groaned, watching in helpless abandon as she drew him in deep, swallowing as much of him as she could, before she pulled back and licked a path around his sensitive head with a broad swipe of her tongue. He surrendered to her with a satisfied groan.

  
  
_This is not what he thought would happen to him in Novigrad..._


	2. The Hunted

_This is not happening..._

"Oh but it is, Geralt. Open your eyes and look at me."

Geralt forced himself to look down at the end of the bed where was Ciri rubbing her lips all over the head of his cock, playing with him while keeping him firmly gripped in one hand. How had she even managed to tie him up? But how could he really explain _anything_ she was capable of? The woman could leap between universes - surely stripping him down and trussing him to the bed posts was as easy as tying her boot laces. Ciri made eye contact with him while swiping the length of him with the broad, flat part of her tongue. _And f_ _uck - why does she have to be so good at this?_

Ciri smiled at him while pumping his shaft. She made him gasp when she dipped her head to draw one of his balls into her mouth. Geralt had a thought - _perhaps I can put an end to this night sooner than she'd like._ He decided to enjoy himself - and spend himself in her mouth as soon as he could.

"Gerrralt. You think you can out-strategize me? Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I've learned a few tricks from your previous lovers?"

The helpless witcher stared at her. Ciri had a dangerous and playful look on her face. What could she have possibly learned from - 

Before he had a chance to protest or react, Ciri had uttered a magical incantation right against his throbbing member. _He recognized those words._ Ciri giggled before burying her face against his bollocks again, laving them with sensitive licks. It was an old spell of Yennefer's, and it meant as soon as he could come, he'd be rock hard again. Ciri could theoretically fuck him all night long and he'd be able to keep up with her desires. She would possess him until she was ready to release him and judging by the animalistic look in her jade green eyes, it was possible she was going to leave him tied to this bed for three straight days. Geralt sighed as she went back to sucking him and licking his staff all over.

"Mmm, that's better, it's better when you relax. Your cock tastes so good, Geralt. I want you to enjoy this as much as I am."

She repositioned herself between his knees, cupping her pert breasts in her hands. "You might be all tied up at the moment, but I want you to still feel in control. Tell me what you want me to do to you..."

Geralt shook his head. Ciri pouted back at him. "Why not?"  
  
"I just can't, Ciri. Don't...don't make me."

She scratched his thighs lightly with her fingernails. "Just think it then. That spell wasn't the only thing Yenn taught me."

 _Oh great. She taught her how to read minds?_ Ciri was determined to make him participate, tearing down every wall of resistance inside of him. Geralt stared at the trimmed patch of hair between her thighs, and a sordid little thought managed to escape his internal filter. Ciri bit her lower lip and then fulfilled his wish.  She crawled up the bed, tracing the dips and lines of his muscles with her fingertips as she travelled up his body, and then flipped around, lowering her pussy onto his face as she drew his cock back into her mouth. 

Ciri was already dripping wet, her cunt was soft and hot against his lips. Geralt opened his mouth wide and tongued any part of her he could reach, eating her pussy with messy gusto. Of course she'd be so sweet. He pushed her pearl around on the tip of his tongue, and she responded with growls and moans, with his member still so deep in her mouth. He stuck his tongue out and let her slide around on it. _That's it, baby. Ride it. Ride my tongue. Come for me._

Ciri propped herself up on her hands, forgetting to please him and losing herself to the sensation of his mouth. With an arch in her back as she humped Geralt's face and her pussy released more of its sweet nectar right into his mouth and he swallowed it down, letting it flow into his mouth. Geralt had always been good at this, every woman who had spread her thighs for him got a dose of what his tongue could do and they always begged him for seconds. He knew how to use his entire mouth to please a woman, and it wasn't vanity that told him this, but rather the severity of Ciri's swearing and begging. "Yes, Geralt, yes, eat it, fuck, please, make me come!" Geralt shook his head, sucking her clit between his pursed lips and then swiping at it, side to side. She shrieked as her climax made her twitch and shudder - and without so much as touching him further, Geralt came as well, spurting straight up into the air and all over himself.

She climbed off of him with a little growl and laid down next to him, catching her breath. "All those years when we lived under the same roof, I used to hear you and Triss, next door to my bedroom. I heard her screaming and moaning and I used to think you were hurting her, but it didn't make any sense to me, because the next morning she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of you at the breakfast table." Geralt said nothing. He was licking his lips, still savoring the flavor of her cunt. Ciri literally tasted like orange blossom honey, harvested in the early spring.

"I used to be content with listening, and wondering what you were doing in there...and then I started watching."

"You started  _what?_ "

Geralt felt a twin jolt of both shame and lust shooting through him - and his prick was already beginning to swell again, under the influence of not just Yenn's spell but his own wanton desire to hear her tell him _more_. 

Ciri nestled into him for a moment, kissing him on the neck. When she spoke her voice was so intimate and close, her lips against his earlobe. "I watched you and Triss, when you were together. I started by spying through the keyhole. But soon, it wasn't enough, I couldn't  _see_ everything. I figured out I could  climb onto the ledge outside your window and look right in through the curtains. I was always so worried I would fall, or that you would catch me and give me a thrashing. I figured you could hear me - how could you not when you can hear a striga from 500 meters away? I started to think you were letting me watch. So I did. I saw you open her up with your fingers and lick her there, and Triss would wiggle and squirm until you pushed her down with two hands to hold her still. I watched her suck your balls, and taste your cock all over before sliding it between her tits to please you. You held her knees open as you ploughed into her, your cock pumping into her over and over again. I gasped into my hand when I saw you lick her arsehole. I watched you fuck her in the arse while you kept three fingers stuffed in her cunt..."

Geralt groaned. There was a sticky sound in the air and he felt some movement against his leg that signaled to him Ciri was pleasing herself as she confessed these sins to him. He imagined Ciri as a budding young woman, touching herself while watching him eat Triss's pussy. It was a terrible kind of torture because now Geralt wished it had been _her_ writhing under him on his bed sheets.

"I wondered why you never did those things to me, you never even tried. I wanted to feel good too. I saw her straddle you and slowly feed your long cock into her pussy. I couldn't believe it would fit, it's still the biggest cock I've ever seen. I wanted to - "

Geralt felt light-headed and almost like he was having an out of body experience. He couldn't believe what he was saying. "Ciri. Stop talking and fuck me. I want to see if it will fit - inside of you."

Ciri wasted no time. She positioned herself over him, keeping her knees wide so he could see everything. She grasped his cock with one hand and began to sink on to it. Geralt pulled on his restraints, overwhelmed by how silky and tight her sheath felt around him. Ciri sighed and slid her pussy up and down on his rock hard member, feeling it as it went in and keeping her fingers pressed to her clit as she did so. She made eye contact with him and it was incredibly intense. "We're fucking, Geralt. You're fucking me. Look at your cock in my cunt. There's no going back now. You're mine. You're finally  _mine_."

With those fevered words, Ciri let loose, leaning forward to press her hands to his broad chest so she could ride him. He breathed in her scent and pushed his hips up, thrusting upward into her, making his balls slap against her skin. Was this wrong? Was it sick? It felt too good. He was now thankful for Yenn's spell, it meant they could go all night.

_Insatiable little minx. Does that Elder Blood make you fuck like this? Have you always been like this?_

She rolled her hips, always keeping three fingers pressed to her pearl. A flush was creeping over her cheeks as she rode him hard to another climax. "Yes, Geralt, this is how I've always been, because I couldn't have you. I've taken hundreds of lovers, but wanted only you..."

He focused on her breasts, bouncing as she whined and moaned, impaled on his cock. He wanted to taste them - he had wanted to ever since she had slipped her linen shirt off earlier. Ciri read his mind and leaned forward to dangle one of her pink nipples before his mouth. He drew it into his mouth, licking a circle around it, sucking on it with noisy smacks of his lips and savoring the taste of her. Geralt hadn't expected sex with Ciri - even while completely incapacitated - to be like a banquet, but every bit of herself she gave to him was better than the last thousand meals he had enjoyed. Her skin was smooth as cream, her cunt and her tits were like sweet fruit left to ripen until it was bursting with flavor. He still couldn't believe this was happening, surely he had been taken prisoner by an old enemy who was tormenting him with a vision of a sexual experience more sublime than any he had ever experienced. He felt her hands sweeping up his arms, landing on his wrists and the knots that were there. All he could see now were those the two deep pools of her eyes staring down into his, boring into his soul. "Oh Geralt, you're so deep inside me of me, deeper than anyone's been before..."

Geralt reached up as much as he could with the collar around his neck, and pressed his lips to hers, parting them and slipping his tongue into her mouth. She had been in control this entire time, but this was the first instance of Geralt doing something he wanted to do. She wove her little tongue around his and then he felt her pussy clench around his cock as she climaxed again. She gasped against his mouth with a little whine - and then relaxed on top of him, now relishing the simple act of kissing him.

Geralt's senses - and every fiber of his being - was overwhelmed. He realized he had always wanted to kiss her, but he never would have instigated such a thing. Now he wanted to hold her in place and kiss her for a lifetime. Geralt pulled as hard as he could on one of his restraints and he managed to get a hand loose. Geralt wove his fingers through her hair, pulling her in closer. They kissed like lovers now, gentle and tender. His calloused hand swept down her smooth skin to the small of her back. With a few guiding motions he encouraged her to keep riding him, getting her to undulate her hips against his. They breathed into each other's mouths in a steady rhythm as Geralt kept an arm wrapped around her. He begged her with his eyes to help him reach his release. Please, please, please - 

Ciri pulled away from his kiss, giving him an almost heartbreaking look as she writhed on top of him. "Oh Geralt, we could have been doing this years ago. Years and years ago. You could have taken my maidenhood, I would have given it to you freely..."

In Geralt's vivid imagination, he _was_ taking her maidenhood. This room above the Chameleon was transformed into a stolen moment in Kaer Morhen. The other witchers were outside of the walls of the keep, Triss was in the nearby village, gossiping with the local cunning woman. And while they were all away, Ciri was receiving her first taste of sexual pleasure, astride him, _full_ of him - and making him come with her tight, hot sheath.

Geralt pressed his head back into the pillow behind him and filled with his seed, spurting hard. He exhaled, stunned, as she relaxed in his arms. She murmured something under her breath as she dismounted him. It was the counterspell. Geralt felt panicked - not like he had earlier, when she began her seduction, but because maybe now it was all over.

"Are you done with me, is that what you're telling me?"  
  
"No, Geralt. I don't have your true witcher stamina, so I just want to rest for a bit..."

Ciri gently began to undo all the various knots she had used to hold him in place, but she still had that somewhat melancholy look on her face. Geralt sat up, rubbing his wrists, before reaching out to brush a lock of hair out of her face. "Ciri, what's wrong?"

"You're going to leave after I fall asleep. It's what you wanted to do earlier tonight. You're going to escape on Roach and ride away as fast as you can."

Geralt clenched his jaw. "I won't lie, and say that this new - facet - to our relationship, doesn't make me nervous but...all you need to do is tell me you don't want me to leave. All you have to do is ask."

She shook her head at him, tears glinting in her emerald eyes. "Please don't go."

"Then I won't go."

He leaned in just as she did, their lips meeting. Geralt gathered her in his arms and bid her to lie down with him. He lavished kisses up and down Ciri's neck, listening to her breathing slow down. Geralt waited until she was out cold before pulling the coverlet over her and climbing out of bed. 

He crossed the room to pour himself a glass of wine. He looked around the room, at the sleeping woman he knew so well and the new part of their relationship that had just blossomed. Princess, warrior... vixen, seductress, shameless harlot - and she was all his, at least for tonight. Geralt chose a peach off the top of a bowl of fruit sitting next to the flagon of wine and bit into it. The juice ran down his chin and he felt shivers up and down his spine thinking of her cunt on his face and how she tasted the first moment he reached his tongue out to touch the center of her.

Geralt pulled himself out of his reverie and _noticed something._ The restraints she had used on him were still attached to the bed posts. 

The witcher grinned to himself as Ciri shifted in her sleep, throwing an arm out across the pillow next to her. Her ivory wrist beckoned to him, beckoned to be kissed - and tied up.

He was capable of taking what he wanted too.

  
* * * * *

An hour later Ciri yawned and tried to to roll over, finding she had fallen asleep on her stomach. And on top of a pile of pillows? 

"Geralt?"  
"I'm here, love."  
"What's going on?"

Ciri's wrists were bound together now, and tied to the head board. She was on her knees, her pussy exposed to the room behind her. Geralt knelt on the bed behind her and guided himself back into her, pausing when he bottomed out and she had taken the full length of him all the way to his balls.

"You're going to get it now, Princess. Good and hard - from the Butcher of Blaviken this time. I'm going to fuck you like a cheap whore in a rural inn. I'll make you beg. You're going to do what I want now. Do you take issue with this?"

He paused, waiting for her to object. If she protested, he'd stop.

He waited to hear her response.

She _giggled_ into the pillow beneath her.

Geralt threw his head back and began rutting into her, holding on to the two globes of her flesh, delighting in her muffled squeals. 

Geralt leaned down, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling on her mane. She hissed with pain and pleasure as he whispered into her ear.

"I'm going to ruin you for other lovers. No man or woman will ever touch you again, without you thinking of me. Say yes. Tell me you agree."

"Yes, Geralt, yes! More. Please. NOW."

Geralt could never deny her a thing. He would fight a thousand wild hunts for her. And he wanted to make her come a thousand more times tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm not even sure the timing is right for Ciri coming of age at Kaer Morhen while Triss and Geralt are fucking like bunnies but GUESS WHAT - canon divergence is life!)
> 
> I hope you're enjoying my smutfest. Please follow me at thetemplarandtherogue.tumblr.com for more Dragon Age and Witcher fanning.


	3. The (Real) Last Wish

Geralt had lost track of time - a thought that made him smile to himself as he ploughed deep into Ciri for what must have been the tenth instance that night. Hours ago, she had drawn the heavy curtains, so for all he knew it was daybreak, or even time for elevenses or a midday repast. He didn't know and it didn't matter. At the moment he was kneeling between her thighs watching her squirm as he fucked her with sharp thrusts of his hips. She reached her pale arms over her to grab on to the headboard behind her as she bit her lip and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Ciri had hit him with the sex magick spell a few rounds ago and as he gazed into her green eyes he was glad of the assistance, because he wanted to spend the rest of his life in this room with her, tangled up in the sheets, bending her flexible body into different shapes underneath him, taking her on every piece of furniture in the room. They had even broken a chair earlier, it was glorious. He pushed her knees flush against her body and began gliding into her in deep, full thrusts. Ciri grasped his biceps with a gasp as she held on tight. He watched her cheeks and her chest flush pink, her nipples growing erect and tight. "Geralt, I'm, I'm so close, more, harder - oh, oh..."

Geralt was so fixated on watching how Ciri's orgasms transformed her skin and made her eyes sparkle and glow that he ignored the light tap at the door. He collapsed against her body now, pinning her down and slapping his hips against hers. "Ciri, come for me again, let me hear it - "

Instead of crying out with satisfaction, Ciri was squeaking into his ear with a giggle and trying to grab the nearby coverlet. Geralt looked over his shoulder and realized the door had swung open and Dandelion was standing three feet away from them with a platter of food - that he was letting drop to the floor with a clatter.

"Geralt, I'm so sorry, I - CIRI? Oh, oh, oh no, Freya's tits..."

Dandelion turned several colors - he blushed red, and then a strange shade of green, and then completely paled before he scooted out of the room. Geralt heard the silk of his clothes flapping away as he made his quick exit down the stairs. It also didn't help that Ciri couldn't stop giggling.

"It's not funny, Ciri - "

Geralt pulled out of her and she groaned with frustration. "Geralt, come on, we were in the middle of something."

He had to search the room a few times to find his leathers. He pulled on a tunic and had to step over the remains of the breakfast Dandelion had brought him. 

"I gotta go talk to him."  
  
"Oh Geralt, don't be so dramatic," she drawled at him in a way that distinctly reminded him of Yennefer's dismissive tone. "You aren't my actual father. What we're doing isn't _that_  scandalous."

Geralt pulled his hair back into a knot and put on his boots. "Maybe it isn't, but I don't want Dandelion to fall over dead from the shock of it."

Ciri flopped back in bed with a scowl. Geralt sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned down to give her a soft kiss that she immediately responded to, parting his lips with hers and darting her tongue against his. He ran his rough fingers across her cheek. "Besides, the man has made a substantial amount of coin singing about your adventures and exploits. I can't have him writing a song about THIS."

"But why not? Who cares! Geralt, you never care what people think!"  
"Not people. Specifically Triss and Yenn."

Ciri fell back against her pillow with a musical little laugh. "Oh Geralt, and here I was thinking you weren't afraid of anything, not my father, or Radovid, not Eredin, not a thousand alghouls..."  
  
"Don't laugh. They'd kill me and you know it."  
"Kill you? Maybe it'd be _me_ they'd want to throttle after they hear this song?"

Geralt stepped out into the hallway and then paused for a moment, a dark thought rippling through his mind that overrode his desire to speak to Dandelion right away. He went back into the Ruby Room. "You'll be here, when I get back?"

Ciri yawned and gave him a winsome smile. "I had a few matters to see to today, but I will return after I deal with them. How about we meet back here for dinner?"

He swallowed, looking at her spread out on that luxurious four poster bed. She rolled toward him on her side and Geralt let a sigh slip from his mouth. She was better than any painting he had ever seen, a sublime odalisque who was not made of brushstrokes but flesh, flesh he had kissed and caressed, licked and pleasured. She blushed, reading his thoughts.

"I will see you later, Geralt - I promise."

  
* * * * *

Geralt found Dandelion sitting on the landing between the first and second floors, in a bit of a daze. Geralt dashed down the stairs, worried he had indeed jeopardized his friend's health. "Dandelion, do you need some air? A drink, a - "

Before he could continue, Zoltan came up from the first floor. "What's going on here?"

Dandelion opened and closed his mouth, and then gave Geralt a doleful look that he knew meant,  _I can't tell him, you have to._ Geralt rubbed the back of his neck as his two friends stared at him. "Dandelion saw something."

Zoltan gave him a "go on" gesture.  
  
"In my room."  
  
Zoltan repeated the gesture.  
  
"Ciri was - with me. We were - "

The witcher inhaled and gave Zoltan a "put it together, why don't you" gesture in return. Zoltan shook his head, still not understanding.

"Ciri and I were _fucking_ , Zoltan. She tied me up and seduced me, and then I tied her up and repaid her in full. And then, after a while, we were just enjoying each other, and that's when Dandelion walked in."

Zoltan rubbed his face, trying to get his bearings. "That's certainly shocking to be sure, but, I suppose it's...fine? If it was _eventually_ consensual..."

Geralt shook his head, his eyes still on Dandelion, who was starting to look a little better. "She - she instigated it. I would have never done such a thing, ever. And yet - it feels natural. It feels right. She's like me, we're one and the same." Geralt wished he could take his words back when Dandelion's face lit up with inspiration. He knew what he was up to. 

"Dandelion, before you even get started, I need to tell you: you cannot write a song about this. For once in your life, you have to keep this one a secret."

The bard darted to his feet, desperation in his eyes. "Geralt, you can't - you can't say that! This new love you share, it's - unconventional, yes, but it there is no doubt that it is incredibly romantic. Ciri is a singular woman, one you've known all your life and now, finally, after so many years of waiting to be with each other? It would make the _greatest_ ballad, overshadowing everything in my own ouvre! To fall in love with your ward, after you laid your life down for her over and over and over again - "

Geralt put his hands up, "I never said I was in love, Dandelion, you see how your imagination works. "  
  
"Oh yes you are, I see it in your face Geralt. You think you're an unfeeling mutant but that's never erased the fact you have a heart. There's always been a flicker of humanity inside of you, can't you see! How magnificent! And to think, all this time you were trying to pick between Triss and Yennefer and Ciri was there the entire time - waiting - and she was the one you were destined to be with - "

Dandelion stood up now, in a pose meant to convey that his muse was upon him. "Not fire, nor darkest midnight, In the end, he was drawn to  _a woman with hair like silver_..."

"Zoltan, try to talk some sense into him please!" 

The dwarf chuckled, leaning against the railing behind him. "Tisn't possible, Geralt. You are going to have to deal with the consequences of the fact that you and Ciri were ploughin' each other into oblivion and neither of you thought to lock the door."

The three froze - and then laughed heartily together. 

"Dandelion, seriously. Think of the thousand times I rescued your unlucky ass out of some kind of some trouble of your own making, and do me a favor: if you insist on writing this thing, don't use names and change ALL the details. Nothing about casting aside a woman who smells like lilac and gooseberries, or a fiery red-head who survived the battle of Sodden Hill - nothing about Emhry's daughter, presumably dead or missing and come back to life. Just - you know. Write a completely different song."

Dandelion crossed his arms and gave his old friend a stubborn look. "I've never worked well with an editor, and I've never listened to my critics, so I promise nothing. What I shall promise is that I shant release this guaranteed hit until you and Ciri are far from Novigrad."

"And Nilfgaard, Velen and Toussaint. You must be certain Ciri is another world and I'm knee deep in some stinking bog where humans rarely venture."

The bard gave him a half nod and a semi-shrug of his shoulders. Geralt knew that was the best he was going to get out of him today, and that in the long run he was doomed. He'd spend the rest of his life running from two angry sorceresses who knew him better than most people and would be able to anticipate his every move. He huffed a sigh that Zoltan picked up on.

"Well Geralt...is all this trouble worth it though? Are you - actually happy?"

Geralt thought about how much they had talked and laughed in between all the sweating, grunting and animalistic fucking. Ciri had wove her elegant fingers between his and held his hand tight as she told him how travelling through time and space didn't make someone less lonely, and how much she thought about him and the past more often than not. He had traced the well-earned scars on her back as she spoke of having vivid dreams of Kaer Morhen in which Vesemir was still alive and she was eating with her adopted witcher family around that big dining table before the fire - except her subconscious had rewritten those memories, and that old heap of stone was _their_ castle, hers and Geralt's. She shared his bed, they woke at sunrise to make love and then train together, they hunted together and slayed together, and their love was out in the open and not something to hide or be ashamed about. Ciri was such a natural storyteller that he believed her sincerity, even though her knew he could never possess her. She was too wild and free. She could never be content with only him.

"I am beyond happy to be with her, but I know as soon as she's gone, I'll..."

Geralt could not finish his sentence.

  
* * * * *

After finishing his discussion with Zoltan and Dandelion and downing a few midday drinks with them, Geralt went up to the Ruby Room to put on more of his gear so he could go out into town and tend to some business of his own. Ciri was gone already, using one of her those nausea-inducing portals of hers to take her to her next destination. Two of Dandelion's maids were tidying up the suite and they eyed him with knowing looks as they pulled the ravaged sheets off the bed and picked up the many bottles of wine they'd finished off and the bits of fruit they had fed to each other in between rounds of lovemaking. Er, not lovemaking. Rutting. Humping. Ploughing. He had to stop saying that word 'love', it had never been a regular part of his vocabulary and he was too old to be a besotted young fool.

Geralt meandered all over Novigrad, pretending his errands were very important. He got some coin changed, his armor repaired and swords sharpened. He sauntered into a barber to get his beard trimmed and his haircut touched up, feeling a little vain and wanting to please Ciri. Afterward, he ducked into the Passiflora to play some pick up gwent without sampling any of the beautiful women. He only glanced at the statuesque elf lass who was the living embodiment of a springtime romp in a meadow of flowers, and had to studiously ignore the smoldering brunette who was wearing a set of strappy lingerie that hugged her curves in all the right places. It wasn't that he didn't want to go upstairs with one of them - or both of them - it was that suddenly he did not want to be disloyal to Ciri, who despite her confessions of being an adventurous attendee of Kovirian orgies, may not take kindly to her lover of the moment being a cad and a two timer. He counted up his winnings and moved on and decided to check some of the notice boards around town. Perhaps a quick monster slaying was just what he needed to kill a little time. 

* * * * *

A few hours later Geralt returned to the Chameleon after chasing a few tenacious wraiths around a graveyard just beyond the city walls. Maybe he had been distracted by the recent turn of events in his life, or maybe he was finally just getting older, but it had taken him longer than he expected. He pushed open the door to the Ruby Room, dropping his saddlebags on the floor with a thump. Ciri had set an epic dinner table and was standing in the corner near the bar cart with two girls who had their back to Geralt. 

"Ciri?"  
"Geralt! Finally! We were growing more and more ravenous just waiting for you!"

Geralt's wolf medallion hummed around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at Ciri who was handing him a strangely shaped glass. "Introduce me to your friends? The two dopplers in the room?"

Ciri was shaking something in a silver tumbler. "This is Mara, and Amara. They are good friends of mine who happened to be in town at the same time as us. I thought they could join us for dinner."

She took the top off the shaker and poured something into Geralt's triangular glass. "Here. Try this. It's called - a martini." She added an olive to the glass with a little grin but Geralt didn't respond.

He was too busy staring.

Mara and Amara looked exactly like Yennefer and Triss. "H-h-how..."

The three women approached him with their glasses raised. Geralt realized his hand was shaking. They were identical copies of the women he had spent almost a lifetime obsessing about. That little curl in Yenn's upper lip, the perfect tilt to Triss's nose. He was pulled out of his reverie by the clink of their glasses. "Geralt, stop gawking and drink your cocktail."

He sipped the drink while noticing "Yenn" had her arm twined around "Triss's" waist. The two women gawked back at him with measured looks he recognized. They were sizing him up, his rough hands and broad shoulders, his muscular thighs - all the way down to the size of his feet. He had enough experience with the opposite sex to know they wanted to know what he had in his pants. He didn't know what the rules of this game were yet, but he found himself willing to play along as the two women lead him over to the dining table. Yenn sat right next to him, pulling her chair close, while Ciri and Triss collapsed onto a high backed bench together, Triss throwing her thigh over Ciri's. "I hope I chose things you wanted to eat, Geralt. It's been a long time since we've dined together."

Yenn put some things on his platter for him since he was still unable to take his eyes off the two dopplers. He picked up the turkey leg and bit into it half-heartedly, watching Triss feed Ciri a ripe strawberry.

"Geralt, speak - say something, anything!"  
"Ciri, this is a form of torture and you know it."

Ciri shot him a wide-eyed innocent expression that he knew was pure acting. "But Geralt, I thought you'd like my surprise."  
  
"I do, it's just - "

"Geralt, your reticence during this entire affair has been very frustrating.  Did you not truly savor last night? Let go! Enjoy yourself!"

Ciri made eye contact with him as she tilted Triss's chin toward her with an uplifted finger. He groaned involuntarily as they kissed, using tongues, and Triss slipped her hand into Ciri's blouse. Ciri rested her head against Triss's as the red head's hand cupped her breast and tweaked her nipple. Geralt was distracted by Yenn's hand caressing his thigh and the soft touch her lips against his neck near his ear. He looked at the fake Yenn with both alarm and lust as she spoke to him and to his utter surprise, Mara sounded just like her. "Did you secretly prefer me, Geralt? I was too possessive, too jealous - but not tonight. You can have everything you ever wanted tonight."

He grabbed the raven-haired beauty about her waist and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her deeply. He missed Yenn like crazy, and Ciri must have told Mara the delicate details of their love triangle. He could easily convince himself this was his old lover, and it made it even easier that she kissed just like her. Being with Yenn was always like being trapped in a storm in which you could find no shelter, being swept away on a powerful wave. Lust washed over him, flooded his veins. Triss was unbuttoning Ciri's blouse, bearing her breasts. He watched as Triss leaned down to suck one of her pink nipples into her mouth.

That was it, he had had enough. He had been thinking too much. Time to act.

With two strong hands he ripped Yenn's vest and blouse in half, feasting upon her flesh with hungry lips. He heard Ciri's groans, urging him on. With a frustrated swipe of one of his arms he cleared a portion of the dinner table and laid Yenn out in front of him and began tearing off his own clothes, keeping his eyes on Ciri and Triss.

"Did you ever spy on me and _Yenn_ , Cirilla?"

Ciri watched with greedy eyes as Geralt slid his hands up Yenn's pale thighs, parting her legs before him. Triss moved to sit between Ciri's legs now, so Ciri could put her hands all over her as they watched Geralt and Yenn.

"I never had a chance, are you going to remedy that situation right now?"

Geralt didn't answer her, he was already face first between Yenn's thighs, making her arch her ivory back and fling an arm out, pushing more of their untouched dinner off the table. To his incredible delight, Triss leaned forward to cup Yenn's breasts and kiss her while he devoured her soft, juicy cunt. It was enough to make Geralt pass out - it's quite literally what he had always wanted, to have them both at the same time, but both of them were incapable of being so accomodating. When Triss was done kissing Yenn, he stood up to kiss her too. Fuck, he was going to have them both tonight - and Ciri? Ciri had grabbed him by the back of the neck, wanting his mouth next. He had an intense moment where all three women were looking at him with a hunger that was mirrored in each of their eyes. He was practically drooling when Ciri asked him, "So, how shall we start?  _Yenn_ and  _Triss_ are up for anything you want, Geralt."

Geralt was a little grimy after chasing those pesky wraiths earlier in the day. He eyed the deep wooden bath tub in the corner and quickly calculated it could hold all four of them, with the right amount of space in between them. "Ladies. Clothes off. I'd like to take a bath with all of you."

There was a ripple of giggling, followed by the pleasing sound of clothing being shed, and then they were stepping into the water that Ciri had warmed up to the right temperature with just a snap of her fingers. Geralt exhaled, beyond content, as Ciri and Yenn began rubbing him all over with fragrant soap and Triss took the opportunity to slip under one of his arms and cuddle up next to him. He felt her swipe her bar of soap right along the length of his rock hard cock.

"You haven't said hello to me yet, Geralt..."  
"Hello - Triss!"

Geralt grinned, wide and overjoyed. He had missed Triss too. Where Yenn could sulk about one thing he had said to her for days, Triss only wanted to make people happy. She had a kind heart, and - oof, Geralt rolled his head against her shoulder as Triss caressed his balls with the bar of soap next. Geralt watched Ciri and Yenn stopping in their work to kiss each other every once in a while.  _What a gift. Only a queen would give a man such a gift_. Triss was working him all over with the bar of soap and really getting in there. He intuited what was next as she began pushing a finger into his arse while she kept working his cock with the other. He gasped as she began to massage his prostate. He sunk a little lower into the water, feeling as helpless as he had the night before when Ciri had tied him to the bed. That feeling rocketed through his limbs as Ciri and Yenn stopped paying attention to him and turned to each other. Ciri got Yenn to sit on the edge of the tub so Geralt could watch everything. She gave him a wicked look, licked her upper lip and then dropped her face between Yenn's legs, her tongue aimed right at her clit. Yenn swore, her head dropping back as she gripped the edge of the tub hard. Geralt began to feel high again, high on Ciri, lost in a haze of pleasure she was creating just for him. The water even got warmer and without further instruction, Triss gave up on pleasing him with her hands, deciding she wanted more. She turned around and sunk onto his cock in the water, facing Ciri and Yenn so she could still watch their display as well.

"Fuck, Ciri, make her come for me - " Geralt felt like a depraved, wanton pervert saying the next part, "Make _your mother_ come for me..."

Ciri lapped at Yenn's cunt, faster and faster, shaking her head against it. Triss - always helpful - leaned forward and sucked on one of Yenn's pert nipples. Geralt gathered his bearings and slid a hand down Ciri's back, seeking her own soft pussy beneath the water. He pressed two fingers to her clit and began vibrating them. Everyone was moaning together now, trying to hold on to the edge of their climaxes. Fuck, he had been hungry when he came up to the room but now he forgot all about that. All he wanted to do was see all these beautiful women cry out at the same time. He began thrusting up against Triss, flicking his fingers against Ciri. He encouraged Triss to lean forward and kiss Yenn again - now they were all linked at the same time and it was enough to send each of them cascading over the edge. Yenn pressed an emphatic hand against the back of Ciri's head, grinding against her lips at the same time as Ciri gasped and twitched into her own orgasm. Geralt felt Triss clench around him as he shot his seed deep into her. 

Everyone slowly disengaged from each other, sinking back into the water, arms and legs tangled together amiably. Ciri gave him a gentle kiss, sweet enough to almost make him forget about the two other women in the tub - who were also kissing.

"Did you like that?"  
"Very much so."  
"They look great, don't they?"

She tucked herself under his arm as Geralt watched Yenn and Triss together. He was growing hard again already.

"I'd be lying if I said this isn't something I haven't wished for, lusted after. I loved them both, I still love them."

Ciri was in his lap now, her eyes pleading and sincere. "Geralt, after everything you've even done for me, I wanted to do something for you in return. Maybe after tonight, you can be free of the things you wanted in the past. After tonight, you can let them both go. This can be - your real last wish."

Geralt groaned a little, and not just because Triss was making Yenn smile as she licked little circles around one of her nipples. "Did Yenn and Triss basically tell you  _everything_ about my relationships with them?"

Ciri absentmindedly stroked his cock under the water, also entranced by what her foster-sister and quasi-mother were up to across the way. "It wasn't all magic training all the time with those two. You got under their skin as much as they got under yours. They were always asking me what to do, what they could do to undermine the other but not hurt each other too deeply. All the while..."

She paused. The ripples of the water did not disguise the fact that Yenn had a few fingers deep in Triss's pussy now. "All the while?" Geralt cued her.

Cirilla flashed those emerald green stunners at him. "All the while I was in love you too, Geralt. I wanted what they talked about when they thought I was out of earshot, your thick long cock and strong hands, how hard you could fuck, and how gentle you could be. I wanted you so badly it drove me mad - and no wonder Avallach was so frustrated all the time I travelled with him. He wanted me as badly as I wanted you, but I never let him near me."

Geralt almost snorted. That uppity elf, he had always had an intuition that his desire to help Ciri master her skills was not just for purely-saving-the-world reasons. No wonder he spent so much time trailing after her. She was beautiful, sexy and strong - and now sinking herself between Yenn and Triss, their hands all over each other.

Ciri looked at him from across the tub. "Tell me what you want us to do. I want us to do  _everything_ you wanted to do with Yenn and Triss - and me."

Geralt was no ingrate. This was no time to pretend to be shy or out of control. He stood up before the three of them, towering over the women. He grasped his cock in one hand and worked it for them, watching their eyes watching him back.

"I want all of you to get out of this tub, dry off, and get on your knees. I want two of you to suck my cock while one of you licks my balls and my ass." Ciri couldn't even open her mouth before Geralt had his next command. "I want to see all three of you eating pussy on that big, comfortable bed. While I stop to have a bit of a drink, you're going to lie down in a circle and please each other until all three of you come."

Yenn, feeling inspired and incredibly turned on by his words, knelt down before him in the tub and began sucking his cock as the rest of his filthy thoughts came cascading out of him. "I want to fuck Yenn from behind while she eats Triss's pussy, and Ciri, you ride on her face. I want you to trade places in this fashion until each of you has been filled with my seed and it is dripping out of your cunts. And then - "

The three women waited for him to finish. "I want to sleep for about 72 straight hours."

Geralt smiled at them, and it turned into a horny sneer. He pulled Ciri to her feet Ciri and smacked her hard on the ass. It made her squeal and giggle as she helped Triss get out of the tub. Geralt pulled his cock out of Yenn's mouth before throwing her over his shoulder like he used to in the good, old days. A few moments later, after a quick rubdown, Geralt had all three women on their knees before him. Yenn and Triss licked his cock together while Ciri drew his balls into her mouth. It was good enough to wish he had an audience. _Is this what a king feels like? Did the lusty jarls of Skellige's mighty past enjoy as many wenches as they could after a bloody and successful raid?_ There was even a twisted part of him that wished the real Triss and Yenn could see what he was doing - with  _them -_ and Ciri. He wanted to brag in their direction, "We could have had this, but you were both too stubborn!" Ah fuck, Ciri's tongue was licking his arsehole and it felt incredible. He took a step back from their voracious mouths.

"On the bed, now, my little soldiers. Get in formation. I want mouths on pussies."

Geralt drank right out of the wine flagon as he watched the three nymphets tumble onto the bed together. The women had incredible sexual chemistry together, even without him in the mix. Each wench was treated to both her tits being sucked at the same time before they arranged themselves in the little circle Geralt had described and dove face first into their work. Geralt found the second turkey leg that had not fallen to the floor earlier and pulled up a chair next to the bed so he could enjoy the show. "Louder, I can't hear you - "

His cue made them moan louder. "More, lick her faster. Come on, use those pretty little tongues of yours. And fingers. Two fingers please." He grinned with delight as they did everything he told them to do as he finished off his little snack and watched with apt attention as each woman began writhing her way closer to her climax, sometimes disengaging from the soft, sweet pussy in front of her to throw her head back and groan. It was better than the ballet Yenn had once dragged him to in Vengerberg, better than any cheap three-penny operetta - and, he added, with a smirk, better than any story Dandelion had ever told him. And that man could tell a story. Geralt finished up his snack and threw the bone over his shoulder. But he was no barbarian, he carefully washed his mouth and hands clean before joining them on the bed, breaking their circle. 

And then, for once in his life, Geralt got exactly what he wanted.

He was ploughing into Yenn, who was face first between Triss's spread thighs, while Triss had Ciri riding on her face. It was a wonderful position, because he could see everything, Yenn's fingers baring Triss's cunt to the room, the bounce of Ciri's tits as she slid back and forth on Triss's tongue. Then as soon as Yenn was gasping and twitching and pushing back against him with her powerful orgasm, he was on his back, Triss astride him, Ciri leaning forward to lick her clit as his staff pumped into her, with Yenn kissing him so he had a tongue to wrestle with. The infinite algebra of it was astounding. Once Triss had his seed dripping out of her cunt and down her thighs, Ciri was on top of her, scissoring open the red head's legs and grinding her pussy against all of that sticky wetness. At the same time, Geralt took the opportunity to eat and finger Yenn's ass, getting it ready to take his cock. Here's something he never thought he'd do with Ciri - please two women together. They fucked side by side, leaning toward each other to kiss. While he plowed deep into Yenn, he watched, fixated, as Ciri pushed her cunt right against Triss's so their swollen pearls could rub right against each other's. He'd never even seen two women fuck like this, and here was his foster-daughter showing him for his benefit. 

And it still wasn't enough, everyone had been dosed by Ciri's magick. As soon as one orgasm was over, there was always another one building. They came together in great waves of moans and groans. Geralt began testing theories to himself. Could two of them eat Triss's pussy at the same time? Could they get a third tongue in there? Who could take the full length of his cock in their tight, hot little ass? Could he come without touching himself, just by watching Ciri finger both Yenn and Triss at the same time until each woman climaxed hard with an emphatic squirt? Which woman could take four of his fingers into her pussy, almost to the knuckle? Could he get his thumb in there if he licked and sucked on her clit to get her to relax? He asked himself how much seed could his body produce, as he spurted onto tits and into open mouths, onto the smooth globe of someone's ivory ass, making a little creamy pool that someone would lick up as soon as he left it there. Who liked her tits slapped as she was rutted hard into the mattress? Who wanted to be choked until she was on the verge of climax? Who ate his ass the best until his eyes rolled back far into his head? He became an architect of pleasure in just a few hours. He stacked them up, one on top of each other so their cunts were lined up for him, and he fucked them one after the other, back and forth, until they fell off of each other into a giggling pile of satisfied sluts. 

Geralt let go entirely at some point and let the women use him. He was mounted over and over again, both his face and his cock.  Sometimes two rested while the other two kept going, but Geralt loved how Ciri would keep her eyes locked to his, no matter what was going on. This was all for him, as much as she was enjoying herself. As the fire died down and became embers, they began to lose momentum, fatigue overtaking them all. The last thing Geralt saw before his eyes fluttered shut for more natural human sleep was Ciri, smiling at him gently as her head rested on Yenn's chest, and an arm around Triss's shoulders. 

  
* * * * *  
  
Geralt awoke the next morning, alone.  
  
The room was in more of a mess than it had been after the first night he spent with Ciri. He got up with a groan, peeling away the sheets from his body. He ached in places, but it was a good ache. He walked around the suite taking in the damage and looking for clues to their whereabouts. The three women had left no sign of their presence behind, not a single red hair, or black velvet ribbon, or piece of stray lingerie. Worse yet, Ciri had left no note. The entire building was silent, as though aware of her absence as well. 

He walked to the window and opened the curtains, bright sunshine flooding the room. Novigrad was hustling and bustling away outside, oblivious to how abandoned Geralt felt at the moment. He went to place a hand against the window frame but it landed on something different. 

He knew what it was without looking at it. It was brass and cool to the touch, and about five feet high. A megascope.

He drew his hand away from it as though it had burned him. Geralt looked to the opposite corner to where a second one had been set up, and then his eyes quickly located the third one, sitting behind a potted han fiber plant. How had he not noticed them last night? He had been so wrapped up in seeing his old lovers again that he hadn't even seen the fucking things standing there in the corners of the suite! 

Geralt had to sit down on the window ledge because he was feeling a little woozy. Who had witnessed their orgy? Anyone with a megascope of their own could have seen the show. His mind began compiling a list of the possibilities, starting with the most damning ones. Yenn and Triss could have seen it, along with the entire reconvened Lodge of Sorceresses. He could only imagine the arch little things Philippa had said as soon as Geralt had started issuing his commands last night. Didn't Cerys have her own set of court mages by now? Even Emhyr var Emreis might have seen this - the old man was still hanging on to his throne and his kingdom. As soon as Geralt had told him that Ciri was dead, he had hastily sought out a new bride thirty years his junior, who had been lucky enough to give him an heir during the first year of their marriage, thus avoiding losing her head on his chopping block. Everyone in Vizima could be buzzing about the news of this - not only was the princess alive, but she was depraved beyond measure, and with people she considered to family as well. Would Emhyr hunt him down for lying to him, or simply, for fucking his daughter so hard she was swearing in at least seventeen different languages? Gods, Ciri had no idea what a powder keg she might have set off with one little private orgy. Or did she? She had always been mischievous and stubborn, fun-loving and unrestrained.

He shook his head and began formulating an escape plan. Time to hit the road and go _far_. Farther than Toussaint or Zerrikania or Nazair. He might have to cross more than a few oceans to avoid dealing with this. Not too long ago he had heard stories of a realm across the sea that had plenty of its own sorts of monsters to deal with, like demons that stepped through rifts in a land where magic was looked upon with suspicion until someone who knew a little of it was needed. A long journey on a boat far from angry sorceresses sounded like a decent plan. Geralt bathed as fast as he could, threw his gear on, grabbed his swords and nearly flew down the stairs. 

Only Dandelion was awake, but he didn't want to linger too long talking to him. And he didn't have to, the bard was in his favorite corner booth, his lute at hand. He gave Geralt a sly look that let him know he had probably written at least half of his newest song about the lion cub and the white wolf and the very explicit things they had been up to. 

"Come back to the Chameleon whenever you feel like it, Geralt. I'm glad to be the shelter for your epic romance."

Geralt pointed a gloved finger at him, staying stern, knowing it was the only way to get through to him at times. "Remember, Dandelion - give me at least a fortnight on the road before you let anyone hear this song. It's bad enough that people might have  _seen_ what I was up to last night..."  
  
"Geralt, how - "

He grabbed an apple out of a nearby bowl on a table and made for the door of the tavern. 

"Don't ask. But for the record, *I'm* not the one who threw this relatively peaceful kingdom into chaos. When the Emperor sends his troops storming in here, looking for me, try to tell them the entire thing was Ciri's idea."

And with that, Geralt was riding Roach out of the city, and he didn't stop until she needed a rest. That night, by a lonely fire under an ancient oak tree, Geralt wondered where Ciri was, and whether she was even thinking of him. He felt discarded and used. The thought made him more than a little petulant. He had always been alone, and nothing was different about being alone now. Tomorrow he'd make sure to find a village girl to tumble with, so he could show her that he too could move on without further thought of her. 

The next day Geralt quickly discovered that this would not be possible. He had been able to locate a farmer's daughter in the next village, willing to overlook his cat eyes and white hair and oblige him with a quick tumble in a haystack at the edge of her family's fields, but he felt nothing. He watched her crying out as he plunged his cock deep into her, felt her shake and stiffen in his arms as she orgasmed, even allowed her to rain a few kisses up and down his jaw. As he rode away before the girl's father could figure out what had just happened, he felt his heart breaking. Dandelion had been right, he was indeed deeply in love with Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon. Was she not his by the Law of Surprise? Weren't their paths destined to always twine together? 

Where had she gone, and would he see her soon?

That night, at his campsite, he looked to the stars and sent a thought her way. "Come back to me, Ciri, even if it's just for a moment. I just want to look at you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, I can't help it. Every time I write smut, some feelings slip in there.
> 
> There's one more chapter to this, and it's the closure chapter. Stay tuned and follow me at:
> 
> http://thetemplarandtherogue.tumblr.com/


	4. O Brave New World

Geralt had a lot of time to think in the pitch black cell Emhyr var Emreis had thrown him into three weeks ago. They fed him bread and water through a slot in the door, and no one came to mock him or threaten him either. Were they trying to see if they could break him down here in the darkness? Impossible. He had survived longer on less food and the solitude did not bother him. He was alone, in a five foot wide cell, with only his memories, and they were enough company.

Geralt's instincts about who had seen his orgy with Ciri and her friends turned out to be right. After he had departed from the Chameleon, the Black Ones had caught up to him as soon as he had hit the Novigrad docks looking for a boat to Skellige. The official charge was high treason although the commanding guard had also added "lascivious acts of an incredibly perverted nature", which had made many of the Nilfgaardian bastards elbow each other. They took him straight to Vizima and pushed him down on his knees in front of Emhyr's throne. The man was ancient now, his back the shape of a comma. Geralt hazarded a glance at Emhyr's consort, a surprisingly beautiful buxom blonde who blinked her big turquoise eyes and sat up straighter when he had been brought into the audience chamber as though she were impressed with him, maybe even aroused by the sight of him.

"You lied to me, Witcher."  
"I did."  
"Why."

Geralt could hear the murmurs of the court around him. He felt strangely vindicated that they didn't all seem to be against him. Perhaps his sexual exploits with Ciri were being construed as romantic and not treasonous but he had no reason to hope. 

"Ciri did not wish to become Empress and I knew you'd never stop chasing her unless I lied. She wanted something else for herself, plain and simple."

His answer was followed by a long, torturous silence. The old man creaked to his feet. "And did these desires of hers include mad orgies? Exactly long have you been _defiling my daughter_?"

The crowd held its collective breath as Geralt looked at the scowling codger who conquered most of the world. He knew what was he was about to say was going to cost him his head, but it no longer mattered. Ciri had abandoned him and that hurt worse than anything a man wielding a scepter could ever do to him.

"It was just the one time. And I am not shamed to say I do not regret it."

The chamber was full of the scandalized whispers of the aristocracy, although Geralt could tell they were enjoying this more than they were offended. Emhyr leaned heavily on his ebony cane, stepping down from the dais to approach him, but it was painful, slow work. He managed only one step before speaking to him again.

"We haven't been able to locate the sorceresses Yennefer of Vengenberg or Triss Merigold, but rest assured, should your accomplices ever show their harlot faces anywhere the sun shines, I shall line them up behind you on the headsman's scaffold."

Geralt couldn't help himself, he mumbled something only he could hear but the old man was livid and not prone to let little comments slip past him. "What did you say, you  _traitorous mutant mongrel rat_? Say it so everyone can hear you."

"It wasn't them, all right? It just looked like them. They were two doppler girls Ciri picked up, so leave Yenn and Triss out of this. And if you're going to behead me, go on and get it over with, Emhyr. It doesn't suit you to be so childish. Not at your age."

Geralt had to bite back a smirk at the murmur that raced through the throne room, accompanied by the sound of at least a hundred women flapping their fans to their faces so they could giggle behind them. He was sure it was the last time he would ever smile at anything again.

  
* * * * *

The next day the streets of Vizima were in festival mode. Geralt's beheading was the most exciting event since the birth of the emperor's new heir and even from the depths of his cell he could sense the energy of the city pulsing around the castle. The witcher found himself growing contemplative as noon drew near. _Vesemir_. Would he approve of such a death? A witcher should exit this world with a sword in his hand, at the knees of a worthy foe. In those last moments before the guards swung open the door, Geralt realized he had not just sacrificed his life for two blissful nights with a most extraordinary woman, but he had sacrificed his code.

Had it been worth it?

He closed his eyes, remembering the soft touch of her fingertip as it traced down the deep scar on his face, the very thing that had caused many mortal women to recoil from him. He remembered her incredible green eyes shining up at him, illuminated by the nearby candlelight as he brought her to ecstasy over and over in his arms.

_Yes, it had been worth it._

Two grinning guards clattered into his cell without formality, pulling him to his feet. "Time to die, mutant. Our emperor will do to you what a thousand monsters and bandits could not - separate that ugly head of yours from your body."

But those Nilfgaardian whoresons, they couldn't just take him out there onto the platform and chop his head off, he had to be bathed and shaved and put into a new outfit. He hated these trivialities and remembered the last time he had been in this castle enduring such nonsense, when Emhyr summoned him in the hope he could find and help Ciri. The servant held up a mirror to Geralt, giving him his last look at himself. He looked clean and tidy. Ready to stop slaying drowners and breaking curses, to stop intervening in the hardships of man. Ready to die.

The barber lowered the mirror he was holding before him and then gave Geralt a look.

"What?"

The second man taking away Geralt's rags stepped out of the room and the barber felt free to speak to him - even dropping the previous sanctimonious tone he had taken earlier during the haircut and shave and switching to his natural Temerian accent. "I think it's a bloody shame, ser. I heard that song what Master Dandelion been singin'."

Geralt pressed a palm to his forehead. "Did you now. I haven't had a chance to hear it."

"I think it's bloody romantic. Though can't see why she wouldn't want to be Empress of the entire bloody world. Emhyr doesn't even wipe his own arse."

Geralt smiled, despite his circumstances. "Some people like to wipe their own arses, that's all." He heard voices in the hallway, he was running out of time. "Before I go, do you remember any of Master Dandelion's song? Even a phrase or two?"

The man brushed him off, still preparing him for the axe he was about to meet. "Yeah, I do, ser, happen to have heard it a few times, it's quite popular at the moment. He said somethin' about the White Wolf, and...uhm..."

He paused mid-sentence, long enough for Geralt to despair that that's all he could remember, but the man went on and his eloquence stunned Geralt for a moment, as though Dandelion was there in the room with them, saying one last goodbye to his old friend.

 _"'- the Law of Surprise...paid back to him not once, or twice - but thrice -_  
returning to him a love so rare - and no longer a girl, but a woman fair -  
\- made of magic, beauty, fire - and ice.'"

Geralt wished he could hear this song. No doubt it was one of Dandelion's better ballads, the bard used to be all bluster and braggadocio, but as he had aged he had truly become a wonderful poet. 

"Thank you for that. I'd tip you but - "  
"No worries, Ser. The good you've done the world is well enough."

Geralt stood up as the doors opened and the guards came for him and the barber's face returned to being taciturn and professional. Geralt fidgeted with the collar of his new, rather pointless doublet. 

"Let's get this over with."

  
* * * * *

They lead him out onto a stage erected in the middle of Vizima. There were people packed in everywhere they could fit, and there were faces in every window nearby, people standing on balconies and rooftops and even hanging on to sign posts. The mood was mixed. There's a certain sort that always loves a good beheading, but there was a touch of discontent in the air. If Ciri was alive, she was the rightful heir to the throne and not snotty prince Eduoard var Emreis, who by all counts was an arrogant little shit. Geralt couldn't believe it too, he even heard a few people saying it was shame for the White Wolf to meet his maker in this fashion, all for loving who he decided to love. He could thank Dandelion for those sentiments.

Geralt knelt before the wooden block as a herald reminded the crowd of the charges, which had magically grown longer since yesterday. He sighed, rolling his eyes, much to the delight of the citizens closest to the stage. He wanted to tell them to take a step back, they were definitely going to get blood all over them, but it didn't matter. 

He rested his neck on the block and closed his eyes.

_Vesemir, I'll be with you soon. Time for this Witcher to lay down his sword._

The roar of the crowd intensified.

They wanted his head, they wanted his blood - they wanted him to live, they wanted him to triumph.

Geralt held his breath and heard the sound of metal singing through the air - followed by a strange thud. He blinked open his eyes and found himself looking at the executioner's hooded face, his mouth open in an O of utter shock.

The wrong head had been separated from the wrong body.

In a daze, Geralt realized people were now screaming. He sat back on his knees and found Ciri standing at his side, her blade dripping wet with blood. 

 _The princess!_  
_It is true!_  
_She lives!_

She was smiling at him, and for a brief moment, it was all Geralt could see - until she was surrounded by guards who were dragging her toward the end of the stage where Emhyr, his queen and his son were seated. Two guards also rushed to Geralt's side, keeping him kneeling before the block. 

Emhyr stood up on his creaky legs, in complete shock at the sight of his daughter standing before him.

"Did you think you could get away with executing Geralt? My Geralt? Didn't you think I would try to stop you?"

The old man opened his mouth in wordless consternation.

"I'm not ashamed to say it before everyone in Vizima - I love him. I've loved him since I was a girl. And since you never seemed to understand, even as I vanished off the face of this planet rather than bend to your will, let me state it here in front of your vassals: I reject your crown. I reject your life. I reject YOU." 

Emhyr reached a shaking hand toward her - and them promptly toppled over. His queen darted to his side, followed by a few courtiers as collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Ciri's half-brother pushed his way through them and took one look at his father before his petulant and annoying voice rang out, "He's dead! Father's dead! This means I am emperor now! Huzzah! Guards! Make everyone cheer for me!"

The entitled shit didn't realize things were more complicated than that. Someone in the crowd with a clear voice shouted back, "You're not the emperor, you daft git. It means SHE'S the empress! All hail Empress Cirilla!"

The guards who had formed a half circle behind Ciri stepped back and knelt before her - giving everyone an unobstructed view as she used her powers to  _blink_ close to Geralt, appearing at his side in a heart beat. She held a hand out to him and he took it as he stood up next to her.

"Geralt - let's go. Now."  
"You don't want to stay and be Empress and ruin your little brother's plans?"  
"He's not my little brother, I've never even seen him before until now. What's his name?"  
"Edoard."

Ciri wrinkled her nose in distaste but Geralt didn't let himself be distracted. "Why'd you leave, Ciri? Waking up alone after a night of passion like that - even a heartless Witcher can go and get his feelings hurt."

Her eyes darted around at how many people were trying to hear what they were saying. "I had to do something - I was getting something ready for you. Geralt - will you go away with me? And I don't mean Zerrikania or even to the lands that far beyond the sea past the Skellige isles. Come with me to another world."

He inhaled sharply. In that one pin point of a moment Geralt thought of the thousands of other ways he could die - under an executioner's axe he had just nearly avoided, torn apart by fifty rampaging nekkers, poisoned by a bandit's blade - and even the more benign ends he had imagined for himself - retiring to Kovir's court at Triss's side, or that cabin in the woods he had once dreamed of for him and Yenn. He couldn't know what Ciri had planned for him, but she was studying his face with impatience.

"Geralt, you must decide, or perhaps little Eduoard is going to cut both our heads off."

He couldn't tell her he was worried he'd be discarded again - although he didn't need to. He had forgotten about her telepathic abilities. "Geralt, if you leave with me right now - we will never be parted again. I swear to you, on the blood of elves that runs through my veins. I swear it on the sword you taught me how to use. I swear it with all my heart."

It was enough for him, for now. Geralt stepped closer and drew her into his arms and kissed her in front of the entire flabbergasted rabble. As squeezed her tight, before he could even realize she fit perfectly against his body, they were gone - hurtling through time and through space.

* * * * *

On the other end of the portal the two came tumbling onto soft grass. Geralt sat up and held his head for a moment. Fucking portals, every time. He heard Ciri giggle next to him. She was stretching like the feat of impossible physics they had just endured was nothing but a simple cartwheel to her. Geralt laid back on the grass next to her and looked at the azure sky above them. Something strange was flying in the air, high above them, higher than any bird he had ever seen.

"Ciri - what is that up there?"  
  
"That, Geralt - is an airplane."

He watched it streaking across the sky. "Is it some kind of bird?"  
  
"No, it's a mode of travel. Imagine leaving Poviss at noon and being in Toussaint in - two hours."

Geralt had stopped listening to her. He was watching a girl jog by, in tiny pants and what would be considered just a breast band by most men from Kaedwen to Gemmeria. She was wearing a strange contraption on her head and as she passed Geralt thought he heard music coming from this device.

"Where  _are_ we, Ciri?"

Ciri's mirth grew uncontrollable as Geralt stared slack-jawed at a man riding the craziest contraption he'd seen yet. Two wagon wheels and no axles - and no wagon? He sped by seemingly talking to himself, a strange wire drooping from his ear.

"They simply call this place Earth. And we are in a city named Los Angeles - a place bigger than any city you have ever known. Come along, get up, I want to show you something."

He followed her over the grass hill where they had landed and was hit with the salty smell of the ocean. Children were playing at the water's edge and off in the distance, men were riding the waves on colorful boards. A woman walked past them, her bare feet in the hot sand and this girl was wearing even less than the first woman he had laid eyes on in this new world. "Geralt, stop gawking! Yenn and Triss were always right, you are completely incorrigible."

Geralt scooped her closer to him, murmuring in her ear. "I wasn't gawking at her, I was imagining what you would look like in that tiny, tiny garment."  
"It's called a bikini."

He nuzzled her neck. "I'd like to see you wearing that. Nothing at all would be even better though."

He sighed against her lips as they were kissing again. He needed to have her again, if these "Earth girls" could walk around dressed in a few cloth triangles surely they wouldn't mind if the two of them just got down on the sand so he could rut her right here on the beach? He felt her hands sliding down his back, slipping inside his waistband as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue - until...

" _Hey nerds, is the Renaissance Faire in town_?"

Geralt practically snarled at the two  _village idiots_ who had uttered this in their direction, even though Ciri was back to laughing again. "What was that about?"  
  
"It's the way we're dressed. Let's go. We have a lot of things to accomplish before we go home."

He brushed a lock of her silvery hair away from her face. Perfect thing that she was. Those cheekbones. Those eyes. And now, all his. No more hiding, no more denial. They were together, here in this strange world.

"Home? You have a home?"  
"I do. I rather like it here, even though these kinds of humans are a bit of a mess. They can be mean, destructive, violent, petty - "  
"So just like the humans where we're from?"

It was a bit of a depressing thought, to have travelled so far just to find out humans were the same on the other side of the galaxy. Ciri seemed to sense his disappointment and made him stop at a cart with a large umbrella over it. After paying the man with some paper slips from her satchel, she handed him something on a cone.

"What's this? Something to combat the effects of time and space travel?"  
  
"That, my love, is an ice cream cone. Eat it. And we need to get you some sunglasses, people are starting to stare."

Geralt watched as her sensual, pink tongue darted out of her mouth to lick a path around the top part of the ice cream cone, all the while keeping her emerald eyes glued to his. He sighed and relented, tasting the treat in the same fashion as she had. It was good. It was really good - strawberry, a flavor he recognized from his indulgent days in Toussaint. He was about to tell her he liked it when another fool in his bright, idiotic clothing interrupted him - 

" _Is it Comic-Con or something_?"

  
 * * * * * 

Ciri took him shopping.

She knew how to drive "a car", a horseless little buggy with no top so they could feel the wind in their hair as they zipped around town. She could speak different languages, here on planet Earth. Girls flirted with her everywhere, men stared at her as she walked down the street. He had never been so proud to be at her side. She was braver than any woman he had ever known, nothing phased her. Ciri had apparently been visiting this planet for quite some time, learning their customs and their history and also enjoying herself too. After she had bought Geralt a pair of sunglasses that would obscure his unique eyes to the right degree, she took him to something called a 'steakhouse' and let him order whatever he wanted and then introduced him to some of the very fine wines that were available on this absolutely wonderful planet he was getting used to. During dinner she had sat right next to him, thigh to thigh in the big leather booth. During their shopping spree Ciri had bought herself a short black dress, and during the dessert course she had guided Geralt's hand to her bare thigh under the table. 

"Ciri..."  
"What?"

She pulled his hand right toward where her thighs met, parting her legs to accommodate his large hand.

"At least three times today people thought I was your father."  
"So?"

She angled his fingers so the middle finger of his left hand was resting right against the folds of her cunt. Of course she wasn't wearing any underthings.

"Is this going to be our life together? Getting thrown out of public places because - "

With a very innocent smile on her face, she swirled her wine glass around on the table with one hand and encouraged him to touch her with her other. Geralt cleared his throat but dared not remove his hand when the waiter came to refill their glasses. She was getting wetter with every subtle stroke he gave her with his calloused fingers. Ciri even ordered dessert as he pushed his ring finger into her. Geralt looked around at the other diners, everyone was oblivious to them, staring at their hand-held glowing machines instead of speaking to each other - or noticing the young lady in the corner booth who had a blush spreading over her cheekbones. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"More, Geralt. Make me come, please..."

She tilted her hips up subtly, leaning in to his touch. "You're going to need it all the time, aren't you?"

She nodded at him, lust in her eyes. 

"You kidnapped me from where I belong so I could spend the rest of my life with my fingers in your pussy, didn't you?"

His fingers were moving faster now. She was very wet, Melitele help him, he wanted to taste her. He wanted to get under the table and press his lips to that sweet peach of a pussy of hers. Ciri was close to her release now, he could tell by that desperate, begging expression in her eyes. Oh, but here's the waiter with dessert. He put a tall, decadent slice of cake before them, its layers interspersed with rich cream, flecked with pieces of colorful berries. Geralt didn't stop flicking at her pearl the entire time the waiter fussed with putting the two spoons at the right angle near the plate. The fool, couldn't he  _smell_ her sex in the air? As soon as the waiter turned away from them he didn't bother hiding what he was doing anymore, nobody was looking at them at all. He vibrated his hand against her cunt as fast as she could, as he leaned over and bit her on her bare shoulder. As her orgasm rippled through her and she opened her mouth with a soft moan, he fed a spoonful of the creamy cake. 

Ciri swallowed it, and sighed. "That - was lovely."

He subtly removed his hand from her, and made her eyes twinkle with lusty delight as he licked two of his fingers, pretending it had something to do with enjoying his dessert. "Which one? Your climax, or the cake?"

"Both. Everything. More cake please. More of everything. More of you."

Geralt smirked to himself. He was deliriously content. And the cake was fucking good.

  
* * * * *

She drove them up into the hills above the city, into a canyon she described to him as a magical place, a place that had inspired musicians - the closest things to magicians this planet had. Geralt wondered what kind of place Ciri would have settled into here - in fact, he had always wondered if a woman like her would ever settle down. At almost every point in her life she had been on the run, and the only true home she had known had been Kaer Morhen. In many ways Ciri was a mystery to him - was she a fussy woman, who kept her home in tidy accord, or was she a chaotic mess? He had lived with two sorceresses, both of which kept him line and made him feel like he was a clumsy beast about to knock over every vial or potion bottle they owned. He had loved both Yenn and Triss, but sometimes he wasn't sure they quite loved him back. 

They pulled up in front of an A-frame building, bigger than a cabin but still cozy and welcoming, tucked away on the end of a road that had no other buildings on it. "Here we are, home sweet home."

Geralt stretched his long legs after he got out of the car. The city twinkled below them, an incredible grid of lights. Geralt inhaled the scent of a night-blooming flower he had never smelled before.

"That's jasmine, and it means it's springtime here in Los Angeles. Come on, let's go inside, I can't wait to show you around."

She grabbed their shopping bags and unlocked the front door. The little home was one big room below, with a kitchen and a fireplace, and a set of stairs leading to a  loft where the bedroom overlooked everything. Geralt's eyes landed on a leather arm chair under an arcing lamp. He was quick to imagine wiling away hours there, reading and learning about this new world. He took in the rest of the details, including a little throw pillow on the sofa that had an image of a howling, white wolf on it. He quirked a slightly sarcastic smile at her when he saw it. "That have anything to do with me?"

"Maybe."  
"Did you hug it and think of me?"

Ciri snapped her fingers and the fireplace roared to life nearby. In the soft glow from the fire, Geralt saw her face was a little sad.

"All I've done, Geralt, is think of you, ever since you handed me that silver sword and we chose to walk our own Paths. In one way, I was glad you thought enough of my judgement to let me pursue my own life, but in many ways I was heartbroken you didn't want us to be together."

Geralt shook his head, remember what it felt like to get up from that table in that broken down old tavern and leave her behind. At the moment he was sure that was all she wanted. 

"Ciri, had I known then - that you - wanted me... I wouldn't have walked away from you."

With an emotional whimper she stepped into his arms and then her lips were on his, hungry and wanting. Their kisses were deep, tongues weaving around each other. He could still taste a bit of that berry cake in her mouth, mingling with that natural sweetness that was just her, in her skin, in her spit, in the scent of her from the nape of her neck all the way down to her cunt. He feasted up and down the column of her neck as she murmured his name over and over again, pulling his shirt out of his pants, running her hands over his skin. Geralt may have only been on planet Earth for only a few hours but he intuited how a zipper worked. With one smooth yank Ciri's dress was pooled at her feet and she was lithe and naked before him. He scooped her up under the ass and carried her over to the rug in front of the fire, where a few soft throw pillows were already waiting for them. He laid her down gently, his lips never leaving hers until it was his turn to undress. In short time, he was kneeling between her legs, sweeping his rough hands up her thighs. He made her open her legs wide for him so he could part her folds with two fingers and just take a good, long look at her.

"Geralt, what are you doing?"  
"Looking at what belongs to me now."

He used the tip of a finger to roll her clit around, testing it. His reward was her soft cry and a little shudder of her hips. He used two fingers next, pressing them to either side of her sensitive bud and rubbed it in a circular motion, making it swell. Her pussy pulsed, growing wetter right before his eyes.

"You respond to me so quickly, and I've barely touched you," he said, knowing she could feel his breath on her most sensitive skin.   
"Geralt, please, stop toying with me, it's too much."

He laughed, and then reached his tongue out to wiggle it against her just a few times. "Too much. She pretends this is torture, little harlot, who has writhed in a pile of bodies in orgies, eating pussy while someone eats hers. She's been tied up and spanked, she's had her tits slapped and candle wax dripped on them. She's had two cocks in her, maybe even three - and she can't take just a little torture with a tip of my finger or just a little of my tongue?"

He worked a little of her wetness over the tight bud of her ass before pushing his finger in, while he gave her a few licks again. She was dripping again, just like she had been in the restaurant.

"Geralt!"  
"What?!"

Ciri had propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at him with some indignation. "I have not had two cocks in me! Nor three."  
"Well, I'd be glad to alleviate that situation - providing you find some fellows who don't drive me nuts."

They snorted together before Geralt felt her writhing on his fingers. He grew serious for a moment, staring at her pink nipples pointed skyward and her silvery hair tumbling down her back. He needed to take her, he needed to make this their home, to consecrate the beginning of their new life together. He started by rubbing his rock hard cock over her folds, vibrating the tip of his manhood right against her pearl. Ciri stretched her arms out, grabbing handfuls of the pillows near her as he slid his staff over and over her until every inch of him was slick with her arousal, all the way down to his balls. And then he began feeding his cock into her, the two of them groaning together until she was utterly stuffed with him and already shuddering with delight. He pinned her wrists down, weaving his fingers between hers, and began pumping in and out of her.

"Are you mine?"  
"Yes, Geralt!"  
"Do you want my seed deep within you? In your cunt? Up your ass? On your tits? In your mouth?"

She howled in response, trying to fight back a little but he had her pinned down and was pistoning into her hard. 

"Are you mine?"  
"Yes, Geralt, yes!"

Over and over again, he asked her this question, and she responded to him with the same emphatic answer. He pulled out of her and flipped her onto her knees, keeping her arms folded behind her back so she couldn't move again. He rutted into her from behind until she was biting a pillow in front of her and screaming out. Then she rode him, bounced on him, her fingers working her clit so she was coming once again. He even pulled her up onto her shoulders, so he was fucking straight down into her as he held on to her ankles. Ciri was multi-orgasmic, and he felt her clench around him over and over again and for a brief, panicked moment he was worried he'd never be able to fully please her. She brushed a hand down his jaw, centering him to look at her.

"Don't worry so much, Geralt. You're the best lover I ever had."

She reached down and grabbed onto his aching cock and began guiding it into her ass. She was hot as a furnace on the inside, and beyond tight. She held on to her feet, pulling her knees down so they were flush against her chest and then gave him an obedient smile.

"Give it to me, Geralt, And then do what you promised - come all over me."

Geralt didn't last too much longer after that. He was intoxicated with the idea of doing this to her every night of her life. As he fucked her hard in her ass, he thought to himself: if Ciri wanted to bring a girl or two into the bedroom, he would let her do it. If she wanted to be sandwiched between him and a man they met half an hour earlier, he would acquiesce. If she wanted to do all these things but he could only watch, he would sit there and watch and even take notes if she wished it. He was even willing to do things he hadn't done before, if they would please her. If  _she_ wanted to watch while  _he_ was pleased by a man she had chosen, he would do it. He was ready for anything, all she'd have to do is ask.

He pulled out of her ass and painted Ciri's body with his come as she sighed, catching her breath. Then the brazen harlot got up on her hands and knees and sucked his still-spurting cock until he softened and they were lying before the fire together, a tangle of content limbs.  


* * * * *  
  
A little while later, they got into bed upstairs together, Geralt holding her from behind, his arms wrapped around her tight.

"So, Ciri, what are we going to do together in this world? You know I'm not very accustomed to a life of idleness. And I didn't see any 'billboards' for fighting alghouls or wyverns when we drove over here."

She laughed softly. "I've been thinking about that. People go missing on this planet too, and rather mysteriously at that. There are many helpless souls searching for loved ones - or worse yet, the cause of their deaths remains unsolved. We could still help people here, if you'd like that. And in a similar manner as back home, we would work independently, and answer only to our clients."

Ciri rolled on to her side, a grin on her face. "You also haven't seen what - a 'movie' - is quite yet. It's like a play, but even grander - and guess what, they need big strong men like you to help them make those movies. They call them stuntmen."

Geralt made a face at her. "I'd like to see whatever  _a movie_  is first before I decide about that. Sounds a little silly."

She traced the lines of his pecs and swept her hand down his abs. "The men of this world are sad little weaklings too, they sit at desks and get no exercise - and they're willing to pay someone to help them get stronger."

Geralt only made a noise of contempt over this idea. He took her hand in his, giving her knuckles a few kisses that made her eyes glow with soft affection. 

"We also don't have to do anything, but we can do everything. We can travel. We can see every corner of this world. Together. You've never even seen a jungle before."

He scooped her closer to him again. "Ciri...where will you get all the coin for all these adventures?"

She laughed, free and easy. "A very easy combination of smart investments, some mind-reading, and magic, that's all. Nobody gets hurt, I promise."

"You incorrigible rogue. I suppose I can live off your clever little mind for the rest of my life."  
"The rest of your life?"  
"Or until you get tired of me."

She was drifting off to sleep in his arms, but she said one more thing before her eyes fluttered shut. "That will never happen."

Geralt didn't fall asleep right away. He listened to the sounds outside their home, an owl off the distance, a pack of coyotes yipping one canyon over, and Ciri's gentle breathing. She wasn't the only one who had been wandering for a long time. For the first time in his life, he thought of a life without two swords at his back and realized, he was going to be fine.  
  
He was finally going to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING! I hope that ending wasn't too damn fluffy for you. 
> 
> I'd like to write more Geralt smut but I need to think about a good pairing.
> 
> Please follow me at thetemplarandtherogue.tumblr.com - I love the Witcher, Dragon Age, Assassin's Creed, Uncharted - and reblog a lot of art and related imagery for your own fan fiction fuel!


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